


The Shatterpoint of Many Things

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Undead Chosen One [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Battle wounds, Burns, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Miscommunication, Unresolved Ending, Vampire Anakin, Voyage of Temptation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 12:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Hunter of Man and Drinker of Blood come face-to-face.Many people lose their cool. Some more disastrously than others.





	The Shatterpoint of Many Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 100th work posted here. Curiouser and curiouser.

 

“You look tired.”

“The peaceful ways of the locals wore me out a bit,” was Obi-Wan's wry response without _actually_ looking Anakin in the eye.

“You okay?”

“Yes: you're here now.”

Anakin did not appreciate the needy hunger that lurked in Obi-Wan's eyes.

_ Yeah. We're in trouble. _

“I tried something while you were gone.”

“Oh?”

Anakin slowed his steps, trying to accommodate the slight limp his master had apparently obtained—  _ what have you been doing, Obi-Wan?  _ “Yeah. I tried out packaged blood and the synthetic stuff.”

A frown marred Obi-Wan's forehead. “Oh?”

“Why do you look grumpy?”

“I'm not grumpy.”

“Come on, talk to me.”

Obi-Wan refused to look at him. “I said  _ oh.  _ It's a prompt for you to keep talking while demonstrating the fact that I'm still listening.”

“You're also upset. Why?”

Obi-Wan sent him a glower. “Why do you _think_?”

“I'm trying to find ways so you don't have to have holes punched in your skin all the time and survive with less oxygen in your brain than your supposed to because your body is always trying to replace what it's lost. Nobody donates blood  _ all the time,  _ Obi-Wan. Your body needs rest.”  
Obi-Wan scoffed.

Anakin stepped ahead and then cornered him up against the wall. It disturbed him how easily Obi-Wan submitted, pressing his back to the wall and looking away.

“Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sleeping?”  
“No.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

“I've been far too busy, and then in bacta. A little tangle with a missile and sheer drop to an uneven floor.”

“Let me take care of you,” Anakin murmured, gaze suddenly caught by the individual strands of Obi-Wan's hair. Auburn, auburn, auburn,  _ gray— _

Anakin's hand flew out and snatched the offending strand out of Obi-Wan's head.

His master winced and his hand jerked up to try to block the attack, far too late to hinder Anakin's vampiric speed. “ _ Stop  _ it.”

Anakin blinked, trying to drag his mind back to what he'd been saying. “I want to take care of you. That means making sure you're healthy. Your body isn't doing well, Obi-Wan.”

“You're trying to find a way to replace me.”

Anakin scowled. “Never.”

“You think me pathetic now. A broken, pathetic drug addict.”

_ What have I done to you? I'm so sorry.  _ “No, Obi-Wan. Something is happening to me too. There are moments when I look at you, and all I can think is  _ blood source. _ ”

Obi-Wan's gaze finally met his.

“Something is happening to us.” Anakin framed Obi-Wan's face with his hands. “The only thing I know is that I can't let it take us. You have been there for me every step of the way, you've watched over me, you've fought for me. Now it's my turn. I'm going to take care of you now.”

There was something so lost in Obi-Wan's eyes, something so close to trembling. When he spoke, his voice was thick with tears and shame and barely audible. “Don't leave me.”

“I won't.”

“I hate what this is doing to me,” Obi-Wan whimpered.

Anakin leaned his forehead to rest against Obi-Wan's. “I hate it too.”

For a long moment the still living one simply breathed, Anakin having forgotten to do so again, too focused on listening to sound of oxygen being drawn into lungs. It was such a vulnerable sound, such a beautiful one.

_ Look at you. So fragile. Mind and body in careful alignment, nudge either too far and both suffer. I don't know why this is affecting you this way, but I will keep you safe. _

“Did it work? Your experiment?” Obi-Wan asked at length.

Anakin pulled back and sighed. “No. My system can't handle either.”  
“So you still need me.” There was something terrifying in the undercurrent of satisfaction and reassurance in Obi-Wan's eyes.

“I will always need you.”

 

* * *

 

Satine sat on the dais, the pillows scattered around her.  _ Sit like a queen. _

She adjusted her lounging posture just a little, knowing she still looked too predatory, should anyone here have the eyes to see.

She doubted they would, these politicians.

Her guards saw it, of course. They knew her facade was slipping, trembling on the edge of obliteration.

So far they hadn't said a word.

They would stand by her either way. If she regained her poise, wrestled the monster within back into its cage, they would act as if they'd never seen it.

But if she fell...

They would follow her into hell.

“Surely now Mandalore will join the war? Its resources and warriors would surely help turn the tide—”

Her head snapped around to face the voice of Orn Free Taa. “War is intolerable,” she interrupted, voice cold. “We have been deceived into thinking we must be a part of it. We will retain our neutrality.”

Her Senator stared at her in dismay. “Your grace, are you suggesting we refuse to participate on  _ humanitarian  _ grounds?”

“It is an affront to life itself,” she grit out.  _ I will not be a killer. I will  _ not.  _ And neither will I let my people be killers by default because the universe thinks we're useful to hand their disgusting work to. Enough. _

“Begging the Duchess' pardon—”

Satine's blood went cold as she forced her gaze to drift slowly to the doorway again.

“—But sometimes the best defense is a quick and decisive offense.” Obi-Wan offered her a light bow of respect, his eyes alight with hope for reconciliation.

 _You bring me words to discount my own, and ask for forgiveness at the same time?_ _You wish me to be the one to fall silent, to let you try to force me into a corner, and you wish me to pamper you for your efforts?_

“Really?” Satine murmured. Time to fight back. She needed a fight.  _ Needed  _ one. It burned in her blood. “I assume you all are familiar with the collection of half-truths and hyperbole that is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He winced, very subtle, very small— other than the Mando and the life-drinker, likely no one noticed. “Your highness is too kind,” he replied, eyes and tone both demanding to know  _ what he'd done  _ to deserve this cruelty.

“You're right,” Satine hissed. “I am.”

The life-drinker's eyes blew wide, watching them with rising curiosity.

“Allow me to introduce my colleague, Anakin Skywalker.” Obi-Wan stepped back to allow Anakin center focus, and as Obi-Wan's gaze found Satine's once more, she saw utter misery in his face, resignation and dread.

“Your grace,” the life-drinker murmured, throwing in a charming smile, soft eyes, and a graceful bow that lasted just the right time.

Even if it hadn't been for the pallor of his skin and the flash of fang in his mouth, Satine would have known he was a predator from the sheer perfection of the greeting alone.

He was trying to set her at ease.

_ Charm is a verb. _

“Always a pleasure to meet a parasite,” she answered with a charming smile of her own. She saw Obi-Wan's eyelids fall shut in pain as Anakin's eyebrow flickered. “I remember a time when the Jedi were peacekeepers.”

Keenly aware of Obi-Wan's distress, Anakin didn't take the bait. “We are protectors, my lady. Yours at the moment.”

 

* * *

 

_ Good, good. Now  _ stop.  _ Before you say  _ anything  _ that she can use against you— _

But did Anakin hear Obi-Wan's desperate, inner warning?

For the first time in his life Obi-Wan regretted the fact that Anakin Skywalker was no telepath.

“We fight for peace.”

Obi-Wan braced himself for all hell to rain down.

“What an amusing contradiction,” Satine chuckled, the light flickering in her eyes beneath lowered lashes.

She'd tasted blood.

She  _ needed  _ to kill again.

_ And because she won't let herself, and has a grievance already against my Padawan, she will utterly destroy him with her words. _

Obi-Wan could read the tension in the lines of her apparently-relaxed body, though in the Force, she remained shrouded with misdirection.

Anakin had no idea he was walking straight into a web made especially for  _ them. _

Obi-Wan sensed his brother about to make a devastating mistake, one he would not recover from. So, instead, he rushed to make it  _ first. _

Time to draw Satine's fire, capture her attention.

_ He  _ was the one she wanted to cut open and burn.

“What my friend is trying to say is that we are here to protect you from individuals who do not share your pacifistic point of view.”  
“I did not request such an escort.”

“No, but a majority of your court  _ did. _ ” Obi-Wan felt the awkward tension as a roomful of politicians watched, wondered, and drew their own conclusions.

“So what you're saying is that your companion means well. Is that still the case when he leaves you lying bleeding on the floor?”

Anakin startled beside him, clearly shaken.

“Duchess, if you do not mind, we shall avail ourselves of the refreshments.”

“Certainly. I even have bacta for when you're done.”

Obi-Wan caught Anakin's arm and dragged him to the side of the room, turning them so they could murmur together over the laid out trays with their backs to the staring politicians.

 

* * *

 

“How does she  _ know _ ?” Anakin demanded in a whisper.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Mandalore has ancient legends surrounding individuals... like the one that did this to you.”

Anakin scratched at his jaw. “But... why would she care if I'm abusing you or not? She clearly despises you.”

His master flinched.

“Obi-Wan?”

“It's complicated. She doesn't mind you're hurting me. She'd be this argumentative if you were feeding from someone else.”

“She thinks me a monster.”  
Obi-Wan gave him a wry smile and patted his forearm. “She thinks we're  _ both  _ monsters. It's not important, we'll survive it, it's a short journey to Coruscant. But for Force's sake,  _ do not  _ try to verbal spar with her. You will  _ lose,  _ and depending on how cruel she's feeling today, it could become ugly for your military career. There's too many witnesses.”

“You think I'd harm her?” Anakin asked,  _ pain  _ searing through his heart—

“No.” Obi-Wan raised haunted, worried eyes to his. “I think she'll harm you. Without ever once laying a finger on you.”

“You're scared of her,” Anakin realized, amazed and baffled.

His master didn't immediately discount the accusation. Instead he glanced back towards the dais.

“I can sense it on you.”

“So can she,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Chin up. Just a few more hours and then we're done.” He edged away from the table to make room for others.

Anakin absently picked up a glass, even though he had no intention of actually consuming anything in it, simply to give his fingers something to do.

_ She's a pacifist, Obi-Wan. They don't come more harmless. Annoying, sure, but without claws or fangs. And politics... okay. I'm not very good with that angle, but even if she tried to use something I said in a smear campaign, the Chancellor would put a stop to it. Are you actually afraid for  _ me _ or for you... and if so... why? You're  _ good  _ with the political stuff. _

“General Skywalker. Do you feel there is much danger of our ship being attacked?”

He looked down to find Kin Robb staring up at him, clearly worried.

He gave her a reassuring smile, fangs not even clearing his lower lip. “The defenses are solid, you are accompanied by two Jedi, and a compliment of the finest men in the GAR. You are very well protected.”

“The Duchess seems on edge.”  
“She's nearly died once or twice in the last rotation. That could put anyone on edge, especially one so unaccustomed to violence.”  
Robb sighed. “I'll be grateful when I'm safely back on Coruscant.”

_ Me too. I dislike playing ceremonial guard. _

“ _ Perhaps,  _ if you can be heard over the clanking sound of their  _ battle droids! _ ”

Anakin spun around, stunned to hear Obi-Wan's voice raised.

Satine descended the last step of the dais and moved to stand toe-to-toe. “Ha. The sarcasm of a soldier,” she sneered.

“The delusion of a dreamer,” he retorted.

Anakin's jaw dropped. Obi-Wan's grace and skill with words seemed  _ gone,  _ he looked like a furious teenager pushed past the breaking point.

The Duchess, on the other hand, had all of her poise and victory in her eyes.

_ Wasn't he warning me  _ against  _ doing just this? What is he thinking? _ Anakin wondered, not worried, just... increasingly more amused. There was something  _ here,  _ and he intended to find out  _ what. _

They were engaging in a  _ staring  _ contest of all things now.  _ I cannot believe my eyes. _

“I am sure Duchess Satine and General Kenobi have proven there are two sides to every dilemma,” Orn Free Taa soothed. “Perhaps we can speak now of other things?”

Two head snapped in his direction, eyes flashing, and both growling, “ _ Fine! _ ” at the same time.

Satine ran into Obi-Wan's shoulder as she passed, knocking him sideways before gliding from the room.

Obi-Wan stared after her in helpless  _ fury. _

Anakin made his way over, discarding the glass into the care of a serving droid as he went. “I want to go find our quarters. Come with me?”  
“Of course. You should probably eat too.”  
“Maybe.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be herded back to a lift.

Anakin smiled to himself.  _ Now  _ for answers. As soon as the door closed, trapping his master in with him, he spoke. “So. You and Satine have a history.”

“An extended mission with Qui-Gon when I was younger.”  
_ Late teens... early twenties, then. _

“We spent a year on Mandalore, protecting her from insurgents that threatened her world.”

_ A  _ year _? What mission takes a whole year? _

“They sent bounty hunters after us. We were always on the run, living hand to mouth, never sure what the next day would bring.”  
“Sounds romantic.”

Obi-Wan's pensive mood turned evasive and crabby in a flash. “The civil war killed most of Satine's people, hence her aversion to violence.”

“Uh-huh. And these bounty hunters coming after you, they were all Mandalorian?”

Horrifying memories flickered behind Obi-Wan's eyes. “Yes. They weren't after us for the money. And... they weren't bounty hunters the way you're thinking. They were mercs.”

“Yeah. I've seen the guys working on training the clones on Kamino. Rau, right? The guy in charge. Fenn Rau?”

Obi-Wan breathed a laugh. “You don't know Mandalorians.”

“I just said I—”

“Anakin, just stop.”

Anakin squinted down at him. “I don't understand.”  
“What exists now is nothing like what it was. The Mandos of old... imagine serial killers hunting in packs, raised from childhood to inflict pain and kill. They fought for money, or for glory, for hate, and sometimes simply because it was what they loved doing. They reveled in the fire and dust and screams.”

“There are other warrior cultures, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan gave a faint smile. “Not like this. You will never understand, because you will never find yourself backed in a corner surrounded by men who see Jedi as the ultimate prey. You will never know the terror of that moment, or the relief when another flies in to place her back against yours, hands you one of her blasters, and prepares to force them into killing you both instead of taking you alive. You never,  _ never  _ let them take you alive. You won't know  _ any  _ of that, because of Satine.”

“They took you once,” Anakin realized, voice going soft. “You're a survivor.”

Obi-Wan looked away. “That was the first and only time I've ever come close to ending it.”  
“You...” Anakin's heart broke. “Force, Obi-Wan.”

“Satine found me. She and Qui-Gon got me out.” Obi-Wan snuck a glance up at Anakin's twisted face. “She straightened my head out enough to move on.”  
_ Kark. History indeed. I had no idea. _

The lift doors opened and Obi-Wan walked out on autopilot. Anakin guided them to their small room, and Obi-Wan didn't even notice he knew exactly where they were.

As his master entered, he stretched out a hand to call a chair with the Force and sank heavily into it. Another sign of his stress. Obi-Wan never used the Force for something he could do with his own hands, always saying he never wanted to become lazy or dependent...

Anakin leaned against the now-closed doorjamb, watching the grim lines in Obi-Wan's face.

“When Qui-Gon and I departed, she was left with the daunting task of rebuilding her world alone. In the process, she... must have decided to distance herself from  _ all  _ violence. I confess I don't know why.”

But Anakin was stuck back a couple sentences earlier. “Why didn't you stay and help her?”

“ _ That  _ would have been problematic.” Obi-Wan tried to scrub nonexistent dust from his thigh. “My duty as a Jedi demanded I be elsewhere.”

“Duty,” Anakin mumbled, “but you obviously had feelings for her. Surely that would effect your decision!”

Obi-Wan's eyes slowly raised to his, and there was such calm assurance there as he spoke, “I live by the Jedi Code, just as she lives by her own.”

“But... don't you regret it?” Anakin watched Obi-Wan's face mournfully.

“My life would always have gathered remorse,” Obi-Wan explained. “Either way I chose then would have left me with it. I had to choose the life I could live with. If I betrayed myself... that would have left me with guilt too, on top of the remorse.”

“If you betrayed the Code, you mean?”

“No, Anakin. Myself.”

Anakin wasn't sure he understood it, but he could tell Obi-Wan was trusting him with something deeply personal, asking him to understand, to accept, to  _ respect  _ Obi-Wan as a person.

He could read the vulnerability in Obi-Wan's eyes.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Okay, Obi-Wan. Is that why she hates you?”

“No.” Obi-Wan sighed. “We... kept in touch through the years. She's been there with me every step of the way. Until— until Geonosis.”

“All this because you choose to fight and she doesn't?”

“Something like that.”

“That's unreasonable,” Anakin grumped. “You  _ agonized  _ over the decision to accept your rank, shouldn't she offer you the benefit of the doubt of having  _ good reasons?  _ Doesn't she trust  _ you  _ enough to—”

“I am not without blame, Anakin,” Obi-Wan bit out.

Anakin shook his head. “Sure. But she—”

“ _ No.  _ She's an angry person, Anakin. It's her nature, she's— like you. I should have expected her to not understand before I gave my reasons, I should have expected anger. But I didn't. I called her for comfort, and she attacked me instead. And I retaliated. I've never actually shared my reasons, nor she hers, not without— yelling and namecalling involved.”

“I would have thought nearly dying together would have put all these new problems aside.” Anakin shook his head. “Didn't it feel like old times?”

“Very much so. And that's... part of the problem. She also has accused me of being... interested... in Ventress, and—”

“Okay. But that's one's  _ your  _ fault.”

Obi-Wan ignored him. “And because of her people's legends, and the fact that she shared them with me, an  _ outsider,  _ someone who  _ shouldn't know...  _ and yet I still let you feed from me... she thinks me stupid, and ungrateful, and—”

“Kark, Obi-Wan, she loves you still!”

“ _ What _ ?”  
“She's afraid you're going to lose your personality, right? Because of... well... what's happening to us both? And she's probably afraid I'm going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan scoffed, a bitter light in his eyes. “She would be  _ relieved  _ were I to die.”

“That's really not what I'm getting here.”

Obi-Wan's comlink chimed, requesting Jedi presence in the hold. Anakin's master stood, looking exhausted and heartsore, and Anakin stayed him with a gentle hand. “I'll deal with it, okay? Get some rest.”

 

* * *

 

“General Skywalker, Sir?”  
Anakin looked around at the clones gathered in a loose circle. “What is it? I should be up there making sure the lovebirds aren't tearing each other to bits with words.”

“We know General Kenobi has been struggling,” Rex spoke up. “And we know about what happened with Maul. And giving up his titles. And his personality collapse. How monogamy is changing both of you, and not in a good way.”

Anakin stared at him. “I  _ really _ don't think that's the right word to use for this situation. We aren't—”

“So we've talked about it,” Cody spoke up. “And I have the names of every man willing to let you bite them.”

Mortification and horror struggled for supremacy in Anakin's soul. “What?” was all he could manage to get out.

“The security footage from the shuttle that returned from rescuing you from the Sep prison.” Cody lifted his chin. “It's been seen by most of our two battalions.”

Anakin's hand flew to his mouth as his eyes widened, then filled with tears. Dear Force,  _ no— _

“The names on my list are those who saw it and have volunteered anyway.”

“ _ Cody, _ ” Anakin rasped—

Rex crossed his arms over his chest. “They love you, Sir. And they love General Kenobi. A rotation will allow the General a break without having any of us become too dependent.”

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. “I can't— you men don't—  _ kark,  _ Rex!”

And then there was a skittering noise, a droid with too many limbs, and all devolved into chaos.

 

* * *

 

Dinner seemed like it was going to be a safe place. Obi-Wan intended to stay out of the way, just make sure all was secure— Anakin thought he was resting, but wasn't he supposed to be a little independent? He was still supposed to be effective at his  _ job,  _ wasn't he?

Somehow, things had gone very wrong.

Starting with accidentally walking Satine to the dining room since by the time he'd realized she was alone in the hallway, it was too late to retreat.

Words ensued.

They started out fairly benign, but now they headed for anything but.

“You didn't tell me it was  _ him.  _ The one who created such a mess I had to clean up the other day. I thought him  _ dead. _ ”

Obi-Wan inwardly groaned against an impending headache. “If you hadn't been so busy scathing me, maybe I would have had a chance to say someth—”

“I had to find out Qui-Gon's killer roams free through my  _ own  _ sources! You didn't tell me!”

“Qui-Gon wasn't  _ your  _ parent!”

He knew he'd hurt her when utter silence and ice fell.

And he knew she was simply gathering her forces to land a blow that was going to hurt him even more.

“If family isn't what you make it, then he wasn't yours, either.”

Obi-Wan would have fled if it weren't for a notification from Anakin that there were assassin probes onboard the ship.

_ Great. _

Although he couldn't really hate them for their timing, since it, by necessity, staved off more bloodletting.

 

* * *

 

The dining hall was under siege. Obi-Wan tried to hold off the droids pouring through the door, but there were far too many. One of Satine's guards was dead, the other aiding Obi-Wan—

And he was the only one.

The politicians were swarmed behind chairs, terrified and whimpering.

It didn't help that three of them were already dead.

Obi-Wan had seen Mandalore's senator go down, shrapnel in his chest, and Onaconda Farr—

No, that was  _ two— _

One of the tiny assassins slipped past his guard as he defended against its much bigger mother, slicing into his leg with a razor-sharp leg of its own, severing a bloodline.

A major one, if the sensation was correct.

He stumbled to one knee, hand trying to staunch the wound—

Droids were being blasted. That couldn't be right. Nobody had a blaster.

A familiar feeling at his back.

“Belt, Obi,” Satine's voice called down to him. “Bind it tight.”  
He numbly tried to obey, but there were more droids coming.

“Aramis!” Satine shouted, making a series of quick hand gestures. He nodded, and leaped into action.

 

* * *

 

She'd needed to kill.

For seven terrible heartbeats Satine had hesitated, terrified of what fighting might unleash inside her. Battle was calling, siren sweet and addictive.

But there were too many civilians, and not enough fighters.

So out came her deactivator.

_ Force of Obi-Wan, don't let me succumb. If you hear the prayers of those who don't follow you, please don't let me succumb. _

As the droids poured through, crawling over walls and ceilings, she protected both flanks, catching anything getting past the two fighting desperately for survival. She tried to order the other politicians into cover, since although they were instinctively trying for it, they were picking all the wrong  _ places— _

This room had almost nothing, and the table was bolted to the floor.

Whoever had decided  _ that  _ should be  _ drawn and quartered. _

And then Obi-Wan was hurt. A wound smaller in diameter than a finger, but one that would slaughter him in seconds.

And he wasn't responding how he should. How he  _ used  _ to.

This was new, it was vulnerable, it was terrifying.

She moved closer, giving up her decent position for something far less tenable, knowing she had to  _ save  _ him.

He obeyed her directives, securing the tourniquet with shaking hands.

She could practically smell and taste the terror of the remaining civilians behind her.  _ If any of them are to have any hope of surviving, I cannot follow my heart. _

So she gave Aramis signals.

Signals that would be meaningless to the modern Mandalorian. Signals she'd hoped would never be used again.

Signals Aramis was old enough to know.

In response, an animal came out. The defensive form of combat he had been using vanished, and a monster ripped free.

Satine switched her deactivator to her left hand, snatched up Obi-Wan's lightsaber with her right, and as she opened up with slaughter breathed,  _ please don't be sentient  _ to the droids.

 

* * *

 

Anakin's head came up.

His food source was terrified.

He was in the now-broken lift's shaft and crawling up the sides of it before he realized he'd left his men behind.

It didn't even cross his mind to regret it.

He was through the door at the top before he realized he had a lightsaber buried in his gut.

It felt...  _ weird— _

He was staring into insane blue eyes, and his every instinct recoiled and he bared his teeth in response—

Predator met predator.

She pulled the saber from his side, and he didn't bother to examine it before he sprang to Obi-Wan's side, who was too out of it to have seen the attack.

Behind Anakin, the predator searched the area for something else, something  _ more  _ to kill—

Anakin crouched over his food source and hissed, to let her know Obi-Wan was off-limits.

She spun around, eyes glittering,  _ need  _ in her mind.

Another one moved to join her, movements graceful.

Anakin had never come across humans who felt like anything other than  _ prey. _

These two felt like a  _ threat. _

And the female held  _ his master's soul. _

She wasn't allowed to  _ have  _ it, the crystal could  _ not  _ be in her  _ hands—  _

Anakin extended his own to rip it from her grasp with the Force, but she was too quick. Feet planted, grip adjusted, and then something was flying for Anakin's face— belatedly, as he recoiled to toss it aside, he realized it was a droid deactivator and utterly harmless— and then she was on top of him, throwing him with body and legs away from Obi-Wan.

He felt pain in his chest, his groin, his head— she'd hit him so hard, so fast, in so many ways— lightsaber hilt, knee, elbow, fist—

“ _ Mine _ ,” Anakin snarled, enraged. “ _ My blood source _ !”

“Stay the  _ osik  _ away from him,” the female warned, the male moving to back her up.

And then she wasn't looking at him at all, instead smacking the side of Obi-Wan's face. “Stay awake. Stay awake, Ob'ika.”

She had no right to call him endearments like he  _ belonged  _ to  _ her— _

She—

Another two droids spilled out of the lift and Anakin butchered them with his bare hands in sheer frustration, and then lunged for the female again.

He received a kick in the throat that would have crushed the windpipe of a human, would have killed him painfully.

He tumbled, keening low and scrabbling against the floor.

No one had been able to  _ resist  _ him before. It was disorienting, it was  _ wrong— _

Obi-Wan's wound was being dressed with sure, clever hands.

_ Obi-Wan,  _ Anakin wailed through his empty mind.  _ That's Obi-Wan. My master. My brother. My everything. _

_ Blood source,  _ shot back the feral part of him.

_ So much more than that,  _ Anakin swore.  _ It's true, even if I can't  _ see  _ it right now— _

He looked again, hand gripping his pain-flooded throat.  _ And that's Satine. The woman who loves him. Who wants to  _ save  _ him. _

He held himself back, watching with feverish eyes.

A giant blue thing moved off to the side, and Anakin sent it an open-mouthed growl, fangs visible. It hid again.

And then Obi-Wan was no longer in danger, and a flurry of vicious  _ agony  _ was happening all over Anakin's body.

“You shabla  _ wrecked him!  _ Just in time to send him out into battle! You  _ weakened  _ him, you sent him to  _ die! _ ”

Anakin's hands came up to fend her off, but she was  _ everywhere _ and the pain was so  _ bad— _

And then he was  _ burning,  _ and oh Night, oh Force— Force  _ no— _

 

* * *

 

“ _ No _ !”

Satine paused—

“ _ Please _ !” Obi-Wan cried again. “Satine, this isn't who you chose to be!”

_ Too late. Far too late. _

“Come back to me,” he begged.

She turned her head, found tears streaming from Obi-Wan's eyes.

“You are who you make yourself,” he swore. “You don't have to be this. Please. Save our ad'ika.”

_ Our son. _

Satine looked back at the destruction she'd wrecked, the tablecloth wrapped tight around a corpse, wreathed in flame she'd lit by one of the table's candles.

_ Our son? _

It shrieked, an inhuman wail.

Obi-Wan struggled to crawl across the floor to it, pathetic, weak—

_ No, no— _

“Aramis?”

“My Lady?”

“Clear a path to medical.”  
Satine wrapped her hand in her skirts and peeled the flaming fabric away from the Jedi knight. His agonized screams slowly gave way to keening, eyes staring up at her in horror, in terror.

Her heart thrilled to its song. The fear of the life-drinker.

_ No. Our son. _

Satine looked back, found two pairs of eyes peering around the edges of chairs—

“You leave this room, and you'll likely die. There's more droids through the ship,” she announced.

“Don't  _ leave us _ !” Taa begged. “What if they come  _ back— _ ?”  
“Stay silent and maybe they won't notice you.”

Satine reached down, dragged Obi-Wan to his feet, letting him lean heavily against the table. She hauled Skywalker over her shoulder, shivering at his suffering, needing  _ more— _

_ No. Gentle. Son— _

She looked at the remaining survivors, saw  _ witnesses,  _ knew she should take them out, make it look like the droids had—

Obi-Wan was watching her with terrified, beseeching eyes.

“Don't let me have destroyed you,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard against the overpowering instincts, and set out to traverse the hall.

Obi-Wan, hand heavily on the elbow belonging to the hand that held Anakin's leg, tottered beside her, trying to carry most of his own weight to not make her burden more.

Wounded Jedi.

Wounded life-drinker.

Everything in her yearned to strike.

To make it last, but to end it.

_ No. _

_ Force of Obi-Wan help me. Please, help me. _

Tears filled her eyes, slipped down her cheeks.

Blood hung heavy on her soul, an utter hatred of what she  _ was. _

If even after so many years of close care she was just a  _ heartbeat  _ away from  _ this— _ ?

_ What hope is there for me? For my people? _

_Must we all be murderers? Is there no other choice?_

_Damned by birth?_

She'd tried to break the cycle. If she could get  _ one generation  _ to grow up without violence, perhaps—

Anakin groaned against her back. Obi-Wan's free hand moved to try to comfort him, then refrained for fear of hurting him.

_ Yes, Obi-Wan, I did that. _

_Me._

_Who has torn you to pieces for choosing war._

_Look at me._

“Do not despair,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Satine risked him a glance.

“Not yet.”

She shook her head. “Why?”  
“Because I believe in you. I always have.”

“You shouldn't.” Satine triggered the closest working lift, stepped inside.

Obi-Wan sagged against the wall as they began to travel downwards. “I'm a stupid jetii, not one of the clever ones. No survival instincts.”

“You should have run,” Satine murmured. “Should have run from me, should have run from him.”

“I—” Obi-Wan's gaze ran over Anakin's twitching body. “I don't know how to help him,” he wheezed, panic lighting his eyes. “How do I  _ help  _ him?”

“I don't know.” Satine hauled them out of the lift and into medical. “I was only trained to take them apart. I don't know how to put them back together.”

She rolled Anakin onto a table, switched on a surgeon's light.

A cry like a shriek-hawk's split her ears—

“Easy,” Obi-Wan begged. “Anakin, I'm here, you can move—”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin choked.

“We're going to try to help you.”

Anakin shifted against the table, eyelids fluttering against the pain. “Obi-Wan?”

“I'm going to take the pain away, Anakin.” Obi-Wan's voice trembled, and he looked to the table beside Anakin's. “Satine, help me up.”

She did.

Obi-Wan's eyes rolled up in his head, the eyelids shut, and then he was fully sunk in the Force.

Anakin kept shivering, small moans escaping him.

For long moments they lay there, side by side—

Satine could see no change in the vampire's body. He lay broken, his skin burned away in places, the scent of putrid flesh rising from beneath, the illusion of life cracked and chipped away.

_ And I may have put his eye out. _

He certainly was keeping that one tight closed. The candle went there at one point.

“My Lady, I'm not sure what to do,” Aramis spoke up.

“Guard the door.”

He gave her a nod and moved to close the door and stand watch outside.

Anakin jolted, both eyes opening wide in horror. He still had two, Satine saw, but the one was bloodied and damaged. “Get him out,” he gasped. “Get him  _ out—  _ he's going to hurt himself, he's—”

Satine shook Obi-Wan roughly, but it couldn't pull him from his trance.

“Get him out!” Anakin shrieked.

Satine pried Obi-Wan's mouth open with her fingers, and then kissed him deep.

Obi-Wan jolted against the table, his back arching, gasping—

His eyes fluttered open, and she pulled back, seeing him stare up at her in utter confusion. “He's not healing,” he protested. “He's— I'm going back in—”

“ _ No, _ ” both Anakin and Satine interrupted.

Obi-Wan shuddered, then rolled his head to see Anakin. “Blood. Blood might heal you. I'll—”

“You lose any more and you die,” Satine pointed out, matter-of-fact. “You've lost the gray area of maybe, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “He's in  _ pain— _ ”

The door slid open, but it wasn't Aramis' footstep on the floor.

Satine turned with teeth barred, and found clones filing in.

“The General needs blood?” one asked.

“He's not healing,” Satine informed them. “And General Kenobi can't assist, he's lost too much blood already.”

Vambraces dropped to the floor, body gloves rolled up.

“No,” Anakin rasped, thrashing against the table.

A man in blue stepped forward, the symbol of a medic on his shoulder. “Sorry, Sir, but for now I outrank you. I will preside over this, make sure everyone is safe.”

“Can't do that,” Anakin slurred. “Can't—”

“Can  _ she _ ?” the medic asked, nodding to Satine.

Anakin stared up at her, and somehow there was no resentment or reproach in his eyes. He nodded, let his head fall back against the table.

“You heard him, boys.”

Satine moved to stand over Anakin, and he dragged a grieved, broken gaze to her face.

“'f I lose it, am gonna kill one of them, kill me.”

Obi-Wan was spewing out something along the lines of  _ absolutely not _ , but Satine ignored him, instead giving Anakin a grave nod.

And for the first time since he'd been lost to a life-drinker, she felt a spark of respect for Anakin Skywalker.

Satine held her hands in a ready position, one that wouldn't look threatening unless one trained in the Mando arts—

Obi-Wan was snarling at her like a wounded animal.  _ He  _ knew.

Anakin relaxed against the table, apparently the last of his fears quieted by the sword in human form hanging above his head. 

With that lethal safety net in place, the vampire allowed his friends to help.

 

 


End file.
